Facets
by Sarapsys
Summary: Collection of snapshots and drabbles. 5: Fragile. Near comes down with pneumonia, and Gevanni worries.
1. Lucky

**AN **- Obvious DN is not mine and I am not profiting from this work. This will be a collection of Death Note drabbles centered around nothing in particular.

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He's lucky, the doctor informs him. A former surgeon, avoiding an outstanding warrant, gone underground in the gutters of LA. Just like Mello.

Very lucky, Mello is told; he's forced to turn his head to hear it. The explosion rendered him deaf on that side and his left eye is dimmed, smoky. The handicap disturbs his balance, tipping his already chaotic equilibrium, leaving him crooked and clumsy.

_Lucky_. It's an insult every time he has to squint or concentrate to listen, every time he has to conceal his mutilated features and be reminded of his nearly fatal mistake.

He'd rather be smart than lucky.


	2. Pawn

**AN: **An intended drabble that folded out to be longer than I meant for. Seems like aiming low on word count makes me more likely to finish a story. I guess I'll see how many of my old fics I can finally get done.

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Kal Snydar isn't entirely sure how he got caught in this trap; he's only recently become aware of it. In fact, it's not until that very moment that he feels the steel teeth snap shut.

"Make the trade with Sidoh," Mello says, his blazing blue eyes eager but his tone as offhand as though he had asked the mafia underling to hand him a drink.

And that's that. Ross backs up the little monster, and Snydar has no choice but to agree. Half of his life, tossed away by this kid like an empty chocolate wrapper—and with it, Snydar's belief that Ross is in charge. It's Mello who pulls the strings, Snydar realizes, and he's sculpted the mafia cell into a tool for his own use:

An army of pawns.

Mello, in his infuriating, mocking way, is sure to make a show of 'gratitude'. As is often the case when he is forced to talk to the kid, Snydar is positive he's being set up as the butt of some private joke.

"Go open your thank-you card," Mello says archly, and those scary eyes glint with amusement. "I picked it out myself." He punctuates with a loud snap of his chocolate.

Snydar is anything but innocent, but something about someone who looks like a kid saying things like that, and with those demonic eyes, makes his bones crawl—even the knowledge of Mello's true name doesn't make him seem more vulnerable or less disturbing.

He tries to look at the bright side as he obeys, not sorry for the excuse to get the hell out of that room and away from the smirking brat, heading for the back room they often use for these sorts of exchanges. It's not a business that lends itself to a long life anyway. He should be concentrating on making the most of what he's got left, and Mello's little gift will be a good way to kick things off—Snydar despises him, but even he admits the kid has taste. And he knows the little brat's name now, he knows the name of Mihael Keehl. There must be some way he can use that to his advantage.

His scrambled plotting slams to a halt as he opens the door onto the dusky, ruddy-lit room. It is not the sultry greeting or the voluptuous figure or the tumble of glossy dark curls of the girl waiting for him, though, that freezes his thoughts—though he'd find those all to his liking, if he paid them attention. Mello _does _have taste.

It's the red numbers and letters glowing above her deliberately tousled head that catches his eye. Her name is Jennifer. Snydar doesn't understand the numbers, but he understands what they represent. Against his will, his imagination zooms off in several trainwreck directions, wondering how Jennifer is going to die. Any appetite he had shrivels at the morbid images that fill his mind—disease, freak accidents, the ugly deterioration of age. The idea of touching the girl, even looking at her, makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

Is this what his half-life is going to be? Seeing death in the face of everyone he encounters? Snydar doesn't think any reward can make that a worthwhile deal.

But he's already caught in the trap.


	3. Protector

**Title: **Protector**  
Characters: ** Rester, Near, Roger

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After almost a year of communicating only through email and voice-distorted phone conversation, N, the investigator who personally contacted him to assist in bringing together a Special Kira Taskforce, is coming to New York. Commander Rester is to rendezvous with him at the airport.

His first reaction is that N is older than he expects. Without realizing it, he has pictured the investigator being younger than himself, early thirties, perhaps. The man who now approaches him is old enough to be his father, stooped and tired-looking.

And he has a child with him, of all things.

Rester has learned by now that he can trust in N's intelligence, though. If N has brought a child he has a reason, and it will be explained in due time. That trust combined with natural caution probably saves his job, because instead of greeting N immediately, he waits for them to acknowledge him first.

Turns out the old man is _not _his secretive employer. It suddenly becomes eminently clear that Kira is not the only reason that N is so secretive. Who would follow a child, without first having witnessed his capabilities?

Unreadable black eyes scrutinize him piercingly through a heavy fringe as the man, Roger, weakly returns his handshake. Rester gets the feeling he's being evaluated more harshly than he ever has been, even in his days in the military.

Evidently he passes muster. The boy—his employer—removes his tiny hand from Roger's and transfers it to Rester's. Instead of shaking it and letting go, N takes it firmly, and turns to dismiss Roger. Then, he peers up at Rester. The commander feels inappropriately tall.

"Let's get to work," the investigator says with a decisive nod, and that's that. Near does not once look back at his old caretaker. He seems to feel safe already with Rester.

Commander Rester is surprised to find that he suddenly feels safe, too.


	4. Peacock

**Title: **Peacock  
**Characters: **Lidner, Takada, mentions of SPK

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Apparently, it is in fact possible for an employer to be _more_ exasperating than Near. At least in the SPK there's no primping and posing and cat-fighting over evil, gutter-crawling murderers. Lidner's not accustomed to working for or with other women, and she's quickly finding it not at all to her taste. She guards the stupid, stupid deluded princess, and imagines that it's the woman she's supposed to protect and not her attackers (who Lidner thinks have probably been reasonably provoked) that she's man-handling. Takada could use a solid punch of reality in the gut, in her opinion.

It's sorely tempting to call Rester and ask if there's anything new on Takada, though Lidner knows if there were, Near would brief her immediately. It's silly anyway. _She's _the one stuck tagging along behind Kira's self-righteous trophy bimbo; she'd be the first to know.

And it would be unprofessional. They're all busting their asses, dealing with immense pressures and making it look easy. Whining that she can't stand Takada Kiyomi, from her complacent little smirk to her clicky stiletto shoes, would be wasting their time.

So she bites her tongue and lies in wait for clues exposed through the little queen's schoolyard melodrama and vainglory, and anticipates Kira's—and Takada's—fall.

It will be a long way down.


	5. Fragile

_Fragile_

It starts out as a cold, but N is far too wrapped up in the case to do anything but neglect it; and, as he seems determined thus far to keep up his porcelain façade of being above such mundane things as medical care when around his subordinates (though Gevanni has caught glimpses of Near and not N, sucking his finger petulantly when he gets a papercut, tripping over feet that seem to have none of the purposeful grace of his hands), nobody really notices anything is wrong until he starts coughing up blood.

After Rester hauls their leader off to the hospital something occurs to Gevanni for the first time. He's not sure what frightens him more—the thought itself, or the fact that in almost six months of working in the SPK this is the first time he's had it.

"What's our plan if something happens to him?" he asks Lidner bluntly. He would much rather have asked Rester, since the man is his superior and it somehow would have sounded less scared and more forward-thinking put toward him, but Rester is at the hospital with Near and he needs to know if someone else has an answer before he has too much time to dwell on it.

"…We'll continue working on the case, of course," Lidner answers, managing to make it sound authoritative, but a line creases between her brows and the corners of her stern mouth turn down a little, confirming exactly what Gevanni had secretly hoped was simply ignorance on his part. They're all good agents, but all of them put together don't have the raw deductive power that N does. Gevanni would hardly know where to start on this case.

When they come back, hours later, Near looks as fragile and transparent as blown glass, wrapped in blankets and being carried easily in his subordinate's arms like he's nothing.

The boy is tiny and the agent has no idea how old he is, but suddenly Gevanni feels like he and Rester and Lidner are the children here.


End file.
